The Fine Print
by CatLady4
Summary: I have always loved Jackson's depiction of the lighting of the beacons in Return of the King. However, I also wonder how they found men to tend the fire? Below is one theory.


It took many years, but he finally admitted that his mother had been right. 'You are too stubborn and impatient, Dulid. Mark my words, some day you will live to regret it!'

'Well,' he mused, 'if she could see me now, she would have every right to say, _I told you so_.'

Looking back, a little flexibility and patience would have saved him a lot of discomfort. The notice had sounded so promising to his younger self. _See Middle-earth like few ever do! A job like no other! Only a few are chosen, don't miss this opportunity!_ He was new to the king's army and ached to earn glory and honor.

Dulid's reading skills were not the best and by the time he had puzzled the first few lines out, he was sold. No need to read the fine print. His hands reached up and pulled the notice down. The fewer who saw it, the better his chances. 'This is my lucky day!'

A grizzled veteran standing next to him gave him a knowing smile. 'Sounds too good to be true, lad; you might want to think about it for a time.'

'What's there to think about? Scenic travel, a rare opportunity, and the chance to serve Gondor. What more can I ask for?'

The veteran raised an eyebrow. 'You did read the whole thing, right, including the stuff at the bottom? I can read it for you if you need me to.'

Dulid bristled at the suggestion his reading skills might be as poor as they actually were. 'Of course I read it! How foolish do you think I am? You sound like my mother,' he groused.

'No offense, youngster. As long as you understand….' Whatever the man had been about to say was cut short by the arrival of the company leader.

'Gather around everyone, today is a _most_ important day. As you may have noticed, a new position of valor and honor is available.' He motioned to where the notice had been, frowned slightly but continued. 'Most of you are familiar with the drill. Who is going to volunteer?'

There was a shuffling of feet and eyes that refused to meet the man's gaze. 'Now, now, don't be shy. One way or another, someone must serve. It _is_ an honor after all!'

Dulid didn't catch the ironic tone. 'I'll do it sir! I would be most honored to serve,' he cried out. It was a good thing he had taken the notice. The others must have missed it in the rush to breakfast. Now he was assured of the position.

Heads swiveled in his direction, elbows poked neighbors, and snickers were heard circulating around the room.

'Ah, Dulid, right?' the commander said. 'That's the attitude we need to hear around here more often. You will do us proud, son, proud. See me later today and I will get your gear issued.'

* * *

Forty years later, a much older and wiser Dulid sighed. Today he would not have been caught in the snare. His reading was at the level of a scholar and he used a magnifying glass if he had any doubts about what the words said. Not that there was any necessity for such a thing. Life was simple here in the Beehive. Eat, sleep, watch. Eat, sleep, watch. Again and again and again….He gave himself a mental slap. Even after all these years, he still wasn't quite over it.

* * *

'I must say, Dulid, I am quite surprised. Haven't had a volunteer in all the time I have served. Usually have to resort to drawing straws. What possessed you? You did read the fine print, didn't you?' Dulid's commander asked him later that day.

Dulid swallowed and tried to calm his nerves. Just what _did_ the fine print say? He hadn't had a chance to look at it yet. Between the somewhat suspicious congratulations of his fellows and his regular duties, it had been tucked away in his pocket unread. 'Certainly, sir, I sure did. Sounds like just the thing for me!' He would be damned if he would admit he hadn't read the fine print. How bad could it be? They wouldn't send him off to die or anything like that would they?

'Well, again I must thank you. It is nice to have a willing soul fill the position. It only comes up every few years, and I dread it every time. And this one is the worst. Nobody wants the Beehive, nobody.'

 _Beehive? What was the Beehive?_ He had never heard anything about a Beehive.

'Anyway, here are your instructions. All your gear is set up in the other room. Of course, your personal items will be limited, but you can leave behind a wish list. Whenever supplies are delivered, I will try and accommodate your requests. It is the least I can do.'

Dulid once again felt his stomach grow cold and his heart thudded in his chest. 'Yes sir, thank you sir, I appreciate that.' What exactly had he done?

'Very good, you will set out tomorrow with the wagon. They know the way and we can't have that position unfilled any longer than necessary. I am so very grateful for your sacrifice. You are young and single. It is always worse when a family man is forced to do this.' The commander took Dulid's hand and shook it warmly. 'Now off you go. There is no time to waste!'

* * *

No time to waste! What a joke. No time then, but all the time in the world now. Endless time, never-ending time, eternal time, unceasing time. He could go on and on what with all his learning and knowledge. He must know a thousand words for time and its length by now for his request had always been for more books.

The fine print had been burned into his brain for forty years. _The safety of Gondor depends upon the sacrifice of a few stoic men. This notice is for the Beehive. Severe, frigid conditions must be endured most days of the year. This position is for life. Every five years, you will receive a month's leave. All food and clothing will be provided, and Gondor will be forever grateful._

He stepped outside the cone-shaped hut perched high on the mountain ridge. Steps away towered the giant wood beacon fire that was the end all and be all of his miserable existence. So began another day of endless watching. He pulled out his latest book and settled into his shift. Read a line or two, glance at the distance ridges where the other beacons waited then back at the book. Over and over and over and over and over again.

Yes, his mother and that long ago sergeant had been right. He should have been less stubborn, more patient and read the fine print.

* * *

Near the end of his stint, he lifted his head for the umpteenth time, automatically swept the ridge to the west and then to the east. It took only moment for him to register the change and then to shake his head in disbelief. The beacon on Erelas glowed orange, its flames climbing higher and higher into the sky with every passing second.

Leaping to his feet, Dulid stumbled over the rough ground in his haste to perform the duty he had been assigned most of his life. 'The beacon is lit, the beacon is lit!' he cried as he ran.

His fellow sufferers clambered out of their stone hut that resembled nothing so much as a beehive. They watched as he dumped oil over the wood and then thrust the ever-ready torch into the methodically stacked woodpile that was the reason for their existence. 'The beacon is lit!' he called again and finally they looked to the far ridge.

Their beacon now joined it in announcing the news that Gondor was in need. Almost as one they turned their eyes to the west. Yet another beacon flared against the clear blue of the mountain sky. Eagerly they strained eyes to see beyond it to the next one in line. Although barely visible they could see that one glowing also.

In only a few moments it was over. It was now up to Rohan to answer the call. A while later Dulid walked over and stirred the slowly dying fire. The newest recruit, as naïve as Dulid had been all those years ago, joined him.

'We get to leave now, right? I mean, the beacons are lit. They don't need us anymore.'

Dulid looked at him and sighed. 'Ah, lad, no, now we take all that wood there,' he motioned to a jumbled assortment of logs, 'and rebuild the beacon for the next time it is needed.'

'Next time? What next time?' the poor innocent said. He had struggled since arriving at the Beehive; another victim of inattention to the terms of a contract.

'There is always a next time, son, and it is our duty to be here when the call comes. I know I've told you before, but I will say it again. It's in the fine print.

A/N: _This only applies to the movie. In the book the beacons were well-manned and had stables nearby. I doubt anyone was sentenced to a life of beacon tending, but it makes for an interesting theory!_


End file.
